


Keep It Safe

by triggermoreliketiger, Whatwashernameagain



Series: Keep him safe collection [2]
Category: Thomas Sanders, khs
Genre: Keep Him Safe, M/M, and she liked this addition, does Keep Him Safe have a fandom, im screaming, romantic fool being lovesick, seriously it makes sense if you read KHS, smol addition to original story by my wonderful friend, this is a fic based on a fic, what the f-
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 16:11:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14241009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggermoreliketiger/pseuds/triggermoreliketiger, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatwashernameagain/pseuds/Whatwashernameagain
Summary: An additional scene to Chapter 12 of wonderful story by @whatwashernameagain Keep Him Safe.Basically Roman being lovesick in the middle of the night.





	Keep It Safe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Whatwashernameagain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatwashernameagain/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Keep him safe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13358727) by [Whatwashernameagain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatwashernameagain/pseuds/Whatwashernameagain). 



> I do not own the original story. (nor Sanders Sides obviously)
> 
> This is just a fic based on another fic.
> 
> Read Keep Him Safe friends.
> 
> \----  
> So let's go back to Chapter 12 of Keep Him Safe... Speaking more precisely to the moment when Virgil admires Roman’s painting. So like- in case someone wanted to read how I see Roman creating masterpieces in the middle of the night, here it is.  
> This is basically me describing that romantic fool. Nothing more.

 

It was past midnight. Actually  _way_  past midnight but Roman, despite the tiredness running through his veins, just couldn't seem to fall asleep, tossing around the bed in much more chaotic manner than usually. His mind was free, like a little sheep, bouncing in the sweet, dark, void of the night that was surrounding him. No matter how many time he closed his eyes all he could see was  _His_ face. Tinted in the most adorable shade of pink, cruelly painted with red and purple bruises and cuts. Without a fail, still mesmerizing, beautiful, enchanting...

* * *

How could anyone wish that little angel any harm? Roman abruptly prompted on his elbows, the rage and fury spilling out of him like a rich vine out of a golden cup. His shining, brighter than the stars on the sky above him, eyes snap opened. It was 4am, the lovers hour. And  _He_ was here, so close and Roman was painfully aware of it. Just a few meters away. Did his bruises still hurt? Was he in need of a comfort? A hug? Innocent kiss on the top of this wise head of his? The door leading to his little lynx’s tower were in the line of Roman’s sight. Someone, distantly, was rhythmically bumping into the wall. It took Roman a while to understand that it was his own heart, trying to rip out of his chest to rush on the rescue. Or maybe it was his soul desperately looking for a way out of his body to finally connect with its soulmate which, Roman is sure of that, was just a door away. Cautious ears were sure that he could hear  _His_  stable breath. Nostrils had no problem with catching  _His_  sweet, pure, reminding of chocolate with a pinch of chili, scent. In the ocean which smelt like old books and cleaning products (seriously, Logan’s a little bit freaky when it comes to cleaning his apartment), Virgil was like a subtle scent of white orchid, its petals dipped in purple blood on the edges. The crimson blanket slipped down Roman’s board chest as he quietly got up of the bed. His feet, instead diving in the soft carpet, seemed to be sinking in the endless sea of silence and uncertainty. It was so quiet. Only _His_  breath behind that door and Roman’s heart, playing their melody in absolute synchronization.

 

Roman’s steps were light and perfectly silent as he sneaked across the corridor. His head was spinning more and more with every step, pleasant nervousness raising up in his stomach. “So this is what they called being drunk with love” a shattered thought crossed Roman’s hazy head. When he finally found himself standing in front of the door to the guest room, he had to hold his breath. This was wrong, he shouldn’t be here. Would Virgil be frightened if he found out? Most probably yes. But Roman didn’t want to walk in, he didn’t want to watch him in his sleep (…maybe just a little bit), he just wanted to be as close as possible. He just wanted to make sure that maybe at least tonight Virgil was sleeping peacefully. Roman’s hand lingered on the cold doorknob. It was smooth, almost as smooth as  _His_ skin. As much as he dreamed of gently caressing  _His_ slender wrists, as much as he wished he could kiss  _His_ slim, pale arms, the thing that Roman wanted the most was to show  _Him_ how beautiful he was. He wanted to devote every inch of  _His_ skin, like an expensive, Chinese silk. He wanted to admire it like beautiful, antique painting. Roman’s thoughts started burning as the images of  _His_  bare, milky body appeared in his head. He respected every boundary Virgil was putting. He never meant to look at  _Him_ in the way  _He_ didn’t want to be looked at. It was not Roman intention to stare, when with Logan, he was trying to untangle this beautiful cat out of  _His_  clothes, but his eyes almost involuntarily got to spare a glance at  _His_  beautiful body.

 

Thick brows furrowed and the hand slipped off the handle. That skin, milky, pale, perfect without a doubt, had been stained. The fear he felt when he saw  _Him_ lying on the ground, Scorpions surrounding him like hyenas, flushed Roman’s body again. They did that to  _Him._ They fouled that angel, tried to break him as if _He_  was a branch to snap. But  _He_ was fierce till the end. The spark in deep like an ocean, obsidian eyes left no doubt in Roman’s heart. That sent by heaven’s angel wouldn't stop fighting until the last drop of blood. And that was precisely what Roman feared the most.

 

Biting lips, sending one final wistful glance at the doors behind which his beauty was sleeping peacefully, Roman made his way to his personal artistic corner. He had been spending so much time in Logan’s apartment that finally his beloved nerd agreed on Roman bringing here his painting utensil. Roman critically seized up the lion lined on the canvas. He had dreamed of this lion. Beautiful mane, blooming with thousands of exotic flowers, wise, thoughtful eyes, safety that was beaming from that fantastic creature. And yet something wasn’t right. Something was missing.

 

One whisper from his heart and small wisp of passion was enough for Roman to grab the brush. His gaze suddenly exploded with colours as he looked at his paints, before finally his eyes rested on one colour. The paint came out smoothly, as if it was waiting to be used. As if it knew what its purpose. As soon as the brush touched the canvas Roman lost the contact with reality, swimming on the line between consciousness and unconsciousness. One feet resting on the floor, the other curled up, his hips leaning against the chair, his eyes so wild but, oh so gentle and loving. In his head this lion was becoming something more, something made out of colour purple, passion, strength and love. A symbol.

 

When he finally dropped the brush, his hands were all covered with paint, his eyes hazy and his body more tired than ever. With the last, final spark of strength curling in his body, Roman rolled into Logan’s room. Not bothering to wake up his friend, knowing that he could explain later, he lied down on the bed. They would talk about it in the morning.

 

Roman smiled faintly. So be it. So he foolishly chose a half-wild cat to be the love of his life. So be it, if  _He_  was enchanting lion, then Roman would be the painter, always ready to draw the thick wall defending  _Him_ from everything that meant harm. From everything, anything that could tangle  _His_ mane, that could bruise  _His_ utterly perfect face, that could rip out  _His_ fur. Roman was ready to fight and more than happy with that choice.

_fin._

~~_I’m very trashy fan._ ~~

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly this one time I'm gonna give myself a smol credit- this piece of writing was all written by me but I tagged Eva as a cowriter because allt he idea, all the inspiration... it's all thanks to her


End file.
